“I have to go potty!” Tony, a bright 7-year-old boy, proudly proclaimed. I chuckled - he had said it with such enthusiasm, as if he had won an award for testing his bladder limits. I got up and walked him to the restroom, my hand holding his, his other hand holding his favorite Lincoln Log.

The Child Center at Phoenix’s St. Vincent de Paul is never without the cheery noises of young boys and girls running about the colorful floors and screaming their lungs to exhaustion. To me, it always feels kind of calming; perhaps because they remind me of when I used to do a bunch of pointless running and yelling. Those were the days. I love to help out at St. Vinnie’s because it reminds me how carefree child life was. I usually take breaks like these to reminisce on my days as a little troublemaker.

Right after Tony had finished, his mother had come to get him, which left me all alone. Luckily, another one had been brought to me to be attended to. This little one sort of gave off an air that made me think this one was different from the other kids I’ve played with.

“All right, Kyle,” the volunteer who had brought the boy said with her best “volunteer” voice. “We’re going to leave you with Michael here! He’s got a very good reading voice!” The girl had then twirled around and strolled over to another volunteer, leaving me and Kyle alone together to start mingling.

I looked at him with a warm smile and started, “Okay Kyle, let’s go do something! Would you like to go play with the building blocks?”
A shake of the head.
“Oh, okay, well, how about a good book to start?”
Another shake of the head.
“Hmm, well, would you like to play Bingo with the other kids?” I pointed to the group of kids enjoying a good round of Bingo.
A third shake of the head.

This kid had me baffled. They always go for the Bingo! They always loved the Cheerios they use for the markers. I wanted to leave Kyle standing there and play Bingo myself, but of course, that would be the wrong road to walk. Sure was tempting, though. Instead, I thought more about the boy and less about myself. “Okay Kyle, what would you like to do then?” I asked him.

“I want to talk about things!”

And so I found myself sitting at a table, Kyle across from me, in those tiny Kindergarten chairs they use. It felt to me that this wasn’t a real appropriate place to ice-break. However, I couldn’t really refuse the kid’s request; that would be totally rude. “How old are you?” Kyle had interrupted my thoughts on the situation I was in.

“I am 16 years old. What about you?”
“7 years old! That makes you older than me by...” He takes out his counting fingers. “... a lot!”
I laughed. Then, silence. I had forgotten that there is not a huge variety of topics a teenage boy can speak about to a child. To my surprise, Kyle had broken the awkwardness before I could. “Do you wanna hear about why I have to be here?”

I thought I had known the answer to this one. “Well, isn’t it because your mother had something to attend to, Kyle?”

“No!” he exclaimed. This made me furrow my brow. “I mean why I have to live here!”

My brows furrowed even more. I was about to hear the child’s life story! This wasn’t the usual kid I was dealing with, I thought. “All right Kyle, tell me all about it.”

I had expected a small, child-like story, like a Dr. Seuss book, but boy was I wrong. Kyle had told me a real extensive story (although still worded like a 7 year old) about how his father had stopped coming home, and because the father was the “breadwinner”, so to speak, Kyle’s mother couldn’t afford the rent. She and Kyle were kicked out of their apartment and had no place to go for “a gazillion years!” he said. Then, the two found St. Vinnie’s.

I didn’t expect this at at all. I had expected small-talk about the boy’s favorite superhero or something! Instead I had gotten a story of how his life had gotten to the point where a charity organization had to support him.

“Did you like it? Did you like the story?” he asked.

“Yes, Kyle, it was awesome.” I wasn’t kidding around either. Kyle’s story had made me realize that each of these kids scurrying across the tile had to go through hardships as well. Each of these kids has a tale to tell now, either because of a terrible parent or money problems or just cruel fate. Now, I had been volunteering at St. Vinnie’s for a while, but I had never thought about how these kids even came to be here. It had also shown me that what this charity does is amazing. Saint-like. Without the charity, Kyle might have been living outside even longer, perhaps another “gazillion years!”

I finished my hours that day feeling pretty great about myself as well. It definitely is a hard, cold world to live in, but as long as we have people working to help the needy, the world will feel a little warm as time goes forward.